


How to Get Home?

by livetosail



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Relationships, Fantasy, Homelessness, M/M, Other, Pain, Physical Abuse, Police, Rating May Change, Strangers, Tags May Change, Tattoos, Verbal Abuse, alternate universe - avians, model!victor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-05
Updated: 2017-02-07
Packaged: 2018-09-22 02:31:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9578546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livetosail/pseuds/livetosail
Summary: Top-model, national heart-throb Victor wakes behind a dumpster. His flight feathers are clipped. Where is he? Why will no one on the street even look at him?How does Katsuki Yuuri, his husband, deal with the fact his soulmate has gone missing?





	1. Identification, Please.

His whole body ached. Pain radiated from his wings down to his toes, complementing the pounding headache making everything seem so loud. Victor groaned softly as he shifted slightly, rubbing his eyes. It had to have been a raging party to leave him this disoriented. Bad enough that Victor couldn’t remember the party either. He rubbed his eyes, pushing his long silver locks out of his eyes as he sat up slowly. Only, it wasn’t some apartment Victor was in. He was laying in an alley. Next to a dumpster. 

“Oh my…” Victor sat up slowly, groaning. He felt his pockets for his phone, groaning harder when he could not find it either. 

The texture of his shirt made him pause. It was what he was wearing for the shoot. Fashionable, but not very warm. Victor stared down at it, unable to think of anything besides stepping out of the shoot to take a call. He could remember feeling the cold nipping at his skin then, just as it did now. A shiver slide down his spin. He felt around where was laying for his phone, unable to find it. Or his wallet. 

Victor staggered as he stood, opening his silvery wings to work out the remaining cramps. An ache in his wings slashed through the throbbing headache. Victor stared down at the bottom of his wings, heart sinking as he noticed someone had assaulted him. All his flight feathers had been savagely hacked at. Every single one would need to be painfully plucked so new ones could regrow. 

“There goes my season.” Victor muttered, pulling a few bent feathers out with a flinch before sighing. Until he reported it to the police, they would have to disgracefully stay. 

He stumbled out of the alley. It was a dreadfully dreary day. Though he felt so confused, hadn’t it been sunny and clear this morning? Someone ran into painfully hard, knocking the disorientated male hard enough that he fell against the wall. The man grumbled something, but the language was not one Victor knew. Nor was the street one that he recognized. 

Not moving, Victor looked across the street. It wasn’t terribly busy, but he was obviously in some city. But everyone looked different. Unlike Saint Peter’s, there were no bright jackets worn by those who enjoyed the high of fashion. In fact, Victor noted that most of the clothing he could see looked outdated. Something from twenty plus years ago.

A glance to the side revealed an older man coming closer. Victor reached out, switching over to English. “Excuse, sir!” He flashed a bright smile too, firmly believing that this older man wouldn’t just ignore him. 

“Leave me alone.” The old man’s voice was gruff, but it was the expression in his eyes that stopped the silver-haired male from trying again. 

Victor took a step back, trying to process what could have caused such hatred. He glanced down again at his body to make sure nothing inappropriate was showing before shivering. The wind was slowly but surely picking up. When he couldn’t find anything wrong with his outfit besides the dirt, he brushed at it to try to smooth out the wrinkles and remove the grim. 

A few minutes later, Victor spotted a young lady. She was staring at the pavement as she walked, but had a pleasant face. The model brushed his hair aside and tried again. 

“Miss, excuse me!” Victor called out to her, again flashing a bright smile when she glanced up. After a moment of her just staring at him, she dashed past Victor and down the street. 

What was going on? He stared after her, finally just giving in that maybe no one on the street would help him. Without a phone, he started to slowly wonder. Thoughts distracted the silver hair male enough that he hardly noticed the fact that everyone gave him a wide berth on the street. 

A bright vest caught his attention. Finally! Authorities. The police would help him. 

“Excuse me!” Victor came to stand right next to the officer. The cold was so numbing, but surely this would be easy to get all straightened out. Whomever had dumped him here obviously had not though the prank through. 

“One moment.” The officer muttered, finishing making notes on a little book in his hands. Victor waited patiently, though shivering at the cold winds. When the officer finally looked up, Victor could only offer a half smile. 

“I need help. I have no idea where I am, and no one will talk with me.” Victor forced the words out, even as the expression on the officer’s face turned to hate. 

“Place your hands behind your back.” The man said darkly. 

“There must be some sort of mistake!” Victor did as he was told though, even if was slightly awkward and cramped his wings. “What am I under arrest for?” Victor finally asked as the cuffs were tightened painfully against his skin. 

The only response he got was a grunt. Then the officer shoved him into a police car not too far from where they stood. The man hadn’t even been gentle! Victor’s head crashed against the edge of the doorway due to the others man force. It made his eyes water as his head ached worse than ever. 

\---

The warmth of the police department was about the only thing nice about it. Every single officer sneered at Victor as he was taken to a holding cell. No one would answer his questions either, not even to tell him where he was! The silver haired male had looked at everything for a simple clue, but the only thing he saw was a flag he couldn’t recognize. He had never been huge on studying as a kid, nor was the model exactly current on politics. 

Victor curled on one of the steal benches, holding his hands close as they slowly warmed up. His head as still pounding. The noises from the workers around the station did not help either. Though Victor choose not to ask why exactly he was in holding. The warmth of the space just too nice well he tried to gather his thoughts. Whatever memories he should possess of last night were not present. 

The officers left him alone long enough that he dozed off for a bit. 

Someone hitting the bars of the holding cell startled the model awake. “Identification.” The officer spoke in a bored tone. 

“I don’t have my wallet, but my name is Victor Nikiforov.” He did not bother to stand up, too exhausted. 

The officer did not look amused. “All winged freaks are marked on the back of their neck. Let me see yours.” 

Victor stared at the officer in shock. Having wings was a source of pride. Especially the silvery color he possessed. 

“Now!” The officer barked when Victor didn’t make a move. It startled the man enough to move. Victor’s mind slowly caught up with him as he turned slowly, pushing his long hair away from his neck. He was no longer home, in Russia. Somehow, he had crossed the closed boarder. 

“Please, I’m not supposed to be here.” He spoke out, backing against the wall when the officer shouted something. 

“No one cares who you are, freak. You are just lucky that Prime Mister Gil made it to where we cannot punish those who are not identifiable. You will get a verbal warning this time. Previously, we would have gotten to remove your wings.” The officer’s tone was full of hate. 

Victor found himself pinned the wall, forced back into handcuffs again. “Besides, since you have no identification, law is to give it to you.” Another of the officers said gruffly. 

Victor wasn’t given a choice in the matter. He pleaded with the officers to listen to him, but none seemed to care. They forced him into an interrogation room, locking his hands to the table. Straps were placed tightly around his torso and waist, locking his wings curled to his back. It hurt to breathe. Victor wasn’t sure how long of time passed, minutes or hours. When they returned, it was with people whom clearly were not officers. One of the three had a brief case, which he would soon learn was filled with tattoo equipment. The other had a clipboard. 

“Unidentified male.” The one with the clipboard spoke in such a bored tone. “Late twenties. Grey wings. Grey hair. New ID registration. Identification number 0001543.” 

Victor was frozen as this man with the clipboard spoke. Identification number? He swallowed, tugging lightly on the chains holding him. This earned him a glare from the officer. 

“Now, you have a choice, 0001543.” The man with the clipboard said. “You can willingly allow my colleague to place your ID tattoo on your neck, or you will be restrained further. If you are willing, put your forehead on the table between your chained hands.”

This was so messed up. Victor couldn’t breathe, but found himself lowering his head to the table. With shaking hands, causing the chain to rattle on the table, he gathered his hair in his hand. The soft sounds of one of them prepping the materials made him clinch his eyes closed. By not resisting, Victor at least hoped someone would take pity on him and listen. 

His wish was unanswered. The bite of the needle was the only response. Tears forced their way from his eyes, even as he kept them clinched shut. 

By the time he was roughly thrown out of the police department, the tears had dried. Though confused and in pain, Victor knew no one here would help him. He would have to find his own way home, even if it meant waiting the months it would take for his flight feather to regrow.


	2. Pretty Birdie

_Yuuri’s POV_

He stared at the screen of his phone as once again, his call went unanswered. Victor occasionally did not come home, but he always made sure to call by noon. The time was now well past three pm, yet there were no messages. 

Frowning, Yuuri scrolled through his contacts to Victor’s closet friends. Chris’s number appeared first. 

“Yuuri, what’s up?” Chris’s tone was casual, as normal. 

The black-haired male could not stop the frown. “Chris, did you go to that party last night with Victor? He hasn’t returned yet.” 

“Yeah, wait. What? Victor left shortly after it began, like 10:30 early.” Chris’s tone sounded as confused as Yuri felt. 

“Oh, really?” That was too odd.

“Victor said he wanted to spend time with you. Only made an appearance because Yakov wished it. I’ll head back to the venue and see if maybe he’s just hanging around there. And contact Yakov. I’m sure it’s nothing.” Chris attempted to reassure Yuuri. 

“Thanks, Chris.” It felt weird not doing anything ese. “I’m going to call around to a few more people to see if anyone else knows.” Mainly it just gave Yuuri something to do. 

However, Chris could not find any news about Victor either. None of their friends had heard from him. 

Yakov convinced the bar to review the security taps. The footage revealed the truth. 

Outside of the back doors of the bar, a dark clothed figure approached Victor. The silver haired male was obvious, messing around on his phone as he took slow steps away from the door. It happened so fast. The figure attacked Victor, injecting him with something which caused the silver-haired male to pass out. A van showed up moments later to take Victor away.

The bar’s security called the police after the footage review. The police started an investigation, but the only witness was a fuzzy video. Victor’s phone and wallet had been thrown from the van before it left the alley. Within a day, all leads to the abduction revealed no clues. 

The raven-haired male locked himself away in their house. He cried uncontrollably at the loss of his husband, Makkachin becoming distressed at the human’s distress. 

By the next morning, the police were willing to wave the 48-hour rule to report the model as missing. The story hit national headlines, and starting trending on social media within hours. Pictures of Victor were plastered on every single news station. 

To some, it may seem odd that a single model could get so much attention. 

The explanation was simple. Victor was the number one most known bachelor. He’d done work with every major brand in the fashion industry, and constantly was seen at charity events. Most importantly, his father was a senator and best friends with the prime minister. The fact that he was missing was seen as a direct threat to the government. 

\----

_Victor’s POV_

The wind showed no kindness to Victor. It pushed its way cruelly through the thin layers of clothing Victor wore. At least his long hair, though getting massively tangled, protected his ears slightly from the wind. 

Now not only did he have a roaring headache, but his neck throbbed with pain whenever he moved it and he was emotionally drained. How could they not just listen to him? All it would have taken was a call to his father, a high-ranking government official, to clear this up. But none of the officers seemed to care. In fact, it seemed like they got pleasure out of forcing the tattoo on him before throwing him out of the warmth of the building. He’d never gotten the chance to get touch a phone to call to house. 

With the glares coming his way currently, Victor figured it might be some time before he ever got anything from the strangers. 

Overwhelmed, Victor rubbed his eyes before looking around. He guessed he needed to find a place out of this awful wind to regroup. Maybe, get some food somehow. More importantly, start tending to his butchered wings. 

His throat constricted as he fought tears. This situation was messed up. How could anyone believe that he was not even human was beyond the young man, but it hurt more than he could describe. 

The silver-haired male wondered for over an hour, studying random buildings to try and find an abandoned one. He couldn’t tell where he’d woken up, but wondered away from the general foot traffic. More than a few men shoved Victor from behind, snickering when he stumbled or fell to one knee. No one offered him help though. Not knowing what else to do, Victor muttered apologies to the strangers in hope of making them feel worse. 

Finally, a place presented itself to him. From the look of the surrounding area, it was a degraded manufacturing section of the city. The building that Victor spotted at least had most of the windows in tack, or boarded over. It looked to him like maybe it a house or apartment building. No one was around. In fact, the block itself was completely silent. 

Victor pulled at the door, somewhat concerned and relieved to find it open. Inside, the walls were decorated with graffiti. The only furniture was some chairs and a broken chest. He shivered, but was thankful the wind was no longer attacking him. 

“Hello?” He called out, believing it might aid him from startling anyone. 

He wondered around the first floor. It was some sort of apartment building or group housing. The only reason Victor wasn’t complaining was that as of present, he had yet to spot any rats. Glancing into the rooms on the second floor, Victor finds a rather nasty thin mattress and a pile of cloth. 

His heart speeds up at the sight. Even though this disgusted him, Victor hesitantly picked up the black material by a tiny piece of it. 

“Reeks.” Victor muttered, holding the black material up. His heart pounded at the texture. It was thick, probably wool. Reaching to pick up another side, Victor slowly pulled the fabric apart. 

Oh, wow. So apparently, Victor had some luck. 

It was a jacket! Sure, it has a few small holes eaten into it. And god it reeked like urine. But it was massive. 

“I could probably hide my wings with this.” He muttered, blinking away a sudden blurriness from his eyes. He dropped the trench coat, rubbing furiously at his eyes to try and stop the tears. 

However, something broke inside of him. He crouched down, hugging his sides as harsh sobs racked his body. This was all just too much. The simple relief of finding something to combat the cold overwhelmed to young man. He chocked, his wings opening to steady him as he sank down farther, hunching over his knees. 

How long he sobbed was beyond him. 

Oh, god. He was crying over a disgusting jacket. Victor hiccupped as the realization of the situation washed over him once again. 

The silver-haired male debated as he studied the jacket. It smelled too terrible to wear, and there was a river close by. How could the cold water hurt it? However, it would leave him without any cover for tonight. His stomach made its presence known by growling loudly. Though, he shuttered at the thought of how he might get food. 

A sigh slipped from Victor’s lips. He did not have much of a choice. Picking up the jacket and leaving the safety of the building, he followed the street down to where it met the river. The water itself was murky. After staring at the water for a long moment, Victor stepped to the muddy shore and placed the coat in it. The water was freezing! However, he held onto the coat and let it soak for a few minutes. Victor sacrificed the remaining warmth in his fingers to even rub the coat some to work out the dirt. It would take forever to dry. Finally, when he could barely move his fingers from the cold, Victor dragged the coat out. 

Maybe it wasn’t the smartest of move. The bank left his boots covered in mud, and the jacket left patches of wet spots on his front. The reduced terrible smell was probably the only good thing. 

Returning to the old building, Victor hung the coat over a chair in one of the rooms furthest from the doors. He felt protective of the coat. No reason to risk someone else possibly seeing it. 

Convincing himself to leave the building to go try to figure out food was something else entirely. 

Victor sat in one of the chairs, fiddling with the long strains of his hair. The knots that rooted themselves in his hair fought with his fingers. Also, the long strands kept getting tangled in the bandage wrapped around his neck, protecting the tattoo. Finally, Victor forced himself to leave. 

He walked slowly, studying the street signs as he did so. The silver-haired man knew he couldn’t take too many turns, otherwise he would never make it back to the jacket. 

He kept to back alleyways as well, where people did not harass him as much. At least that was what Victor thought. 

Victor found himself behind a restaurant before he knew it. It was only a few blocks from the place he’d scooped out. Though he stopped some ways down, staring at the sky. Could he actually do this? He let out a soft groan as he lowered his eyes to the dumpster before turning away from it again. A shiver passed through him as he thought about how much he could not look in the dumpster for food. 

It just sucked that he was so hungry. He was certainly not used to going so long without food. He felt shaky. Victor’s stomach had other ideas about his options. Every single thought of potentially opening the bin to search for scraps had his stomach in such a knot that it would be easier just to leave. Or throw up. The nausea was choosing a great time to make itself known again. 

“Oh, what do we have here?” A voice drifted down the alley. 

Victor froze, turning to look towards the direction of the busy street. Three men were coming in his direction. Looking right at him. 

“Birdie, are you lost?” One called out, his voice irritatingly happy. 

“No! No guys! The birdie is hungry.” Another shouted, making them all laugh. 

Victor stepped back slowly. True, he could just turn and run in the opposite direction, but he doubted he could make it far against three. His head was pounding too bad. Plus, dread had his feet anchored to the floor. 

“Hey,” one said, pushing Victor against the wall as they surrounded him. “Don’t you know it’s illegal to cover your identification mark? I bet my friends and I can help.” 

More laughter. Victor couldn’t respond as suddenly pain erupted as the one in front of him punched his stomach. His knees would have given out if not for the hands that suddenly pinned him to the wall. 

“Please stop.” Victor’s voice sounded pathetic to his own ears. Though he could barely breathe after that punch. 

It only got him another punch. “Look! He’s begging for us to help him!” 

In the corner of his vision, Victor saw a knife appear. His heart pounded. This was it. He was going to be murdered. He was going to die! 

A whimper slipped from his throat as the cold medal was pressed to his throat. 

Only, all it did was cut the bandage away. 

“One thing at a time birdie. We wouldn’t ruin our fun so soon.” All of them laughed as Victor paled at the taunting. 

“See, we take it upon ourselves to make sure freaks like you know your place.” The man with the knife continued to speak. There was a malicious look in his eyes as he stared at Victor, running the knife lightly along Victor’s clothing. 

Victor noticed the man appeared to be contemplating something. The silver-haired male stayed frozen as the knife stopped its trek right above his belly button. 

“But you look like someone’s already taken care of you partially.” The man snickered, returning the knife to rest it on Victor’s throat. “I like the look of your flight feathers. I think I’ll fix your hair to match it. Then you won’t be able to hide your nice little ID mark.” 

The words were like ice. Victor struggled against the man pinning him to wall. “Please, no! I haven’t done anything to you!” His hair was part of the reason his modeling career was so successful. Even if it was a tangled mess, he couldn’t imagine being without it. 

All this did was earn him two more punches to his stomach, so that Victor couldn’t stop himself from bending over to retch and cough. 

This was all the opportunity his tormentors needed. One of them yanked Victor’s hair tight, another holding him by the back of the neck. His vision swam at the pain of having the new tattoo touched. 

Tears sprang to his eyes as Victor could feel the tugs of the knife hacking through his hair. 

Worse than that was the sight of the silver strands laying on the floor as they finished. His hair fell in tatters around his face, stray pieces far too long still. 

One rough shove had Victor toppling to the floor. 

“Leave him alone.” A bored voice said from not too far away. However, the words were lost to the taunt that fell from one of the men’s mouths. 

“See, birdie, you look even more like a freak now!” 

The silver-haired male curled on the freezing ground, waiting for the blows to start. However, he noticed all three men froze.

A young officer stood a few steps from all of them. His expression was cold, dark hair mainly hidden by a uniform hat. 

“We were only helping make him more pretty to the eyes, officer!” One of the men called out, reaching down to haul Victor up by what remained of his butchered hair. 

Victor struggled against the grip, but wasn’t sure whom he feared more. Though the tormenting was terrible, this young officer may do way worse. The police had told him if he caused any more trouble, they would be more than happy to fix him. Which was the polite way of staying surgically remove his wings. After which, as one of the previous officers explained, he would spend the rest of his life working off the cost of the medical bills. 

How could just trying to get some food go so terribly wrong? 

“Well, you’ve obviously had your fun. Now scram so I can make a report.” The officer said, taking a step closer well putting a hand on a baton. 

“Alright, Sir.” It was a mocking tone, but the three tormentors left. 

Victor stood shakily, studying this officer with a terrified look. “Any chance you would just let this slide?” The words sounded frantic to Victor’s own ears. He bit his lower lip, leaning against the wall of the building. 

The man just arched an eyebrow before glancing back towards the ends of the streets. No one was giving them the time of day. 

It was then that Victor noticed how frustrated the officer looked. “Yep.”

The man pulled out a pad, scribbling something on it. “Come tonight, well after sundown. Make sure no one follows or sees you, Victor.” 

It was an address. With a map next to it. 

What Victor didn’t realize was just how lucky he was that it was this officer that found him and not someone else. 

Now all he needed to do was get to this place. Then, he’d be homebound, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, this is really hard to write. It truly is hard to be mean to Victor when he is so innocent. 
> 
> That being said, I did my best with this. Please let me know your thoughts! Comments are welcomed.


End file.
